


And You'll Live As You've Never Lived Before

by Lyonface



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Age Difference, Akira is 17, Angst, February 2 (Persona 5), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mature rating is probably overboard but I like to be careful, Persona 5: The Royal, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Protagonist goes by Akira Kurusu, Takes place during the Bad End where you don't complete his palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26279206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyonface/pseuds/Lyonface
Summary: Every other time we were able to steal the treasure, change the person's heart, and make the world a little bit better to live in.But what does it mean when the world is already supposed to be perfect? What are we fighting for?In which Akira Kurusu, stricken with a lack of drive to fight the only person he's ever fallen in love with, finally succumbs.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Maruki Takuto, Kurusu Akira/Maruki Takuto, Maruki Takuto/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	And You'll Live As You've Never Lived Before

**Author's Note:**

> I originally started writing this as an excuse to put fanart that I'd made involving the Bad Palace Ending in the Third Semester into a fic, since I made up a whole scenario about it, and ended up writing a completely different conversation that didn't go in even slightly the same direction, so that's awesome. The art is very explicit so I won't be linking it here, since the fic doesn't go anywhere near it, but I might make it properly in the future lol.
> 
> Also I haven't written fic in years, so please go easy on beta-less me and my shameless self-indulgent rabble. OTL
> 
> 2/2/2021 - Slightly edited parts for quality and tone.

“We’re not going to make it, are we?”

It was February, and yet the chill in the attic had never been this frigid. The Phantom Thieves had tried to go up against their latest foe, not necessarily the strongest they had been forced to fight nor the most malicious. In fact, that was part of the entire problem: This was Takuto Maruki they were dealing with. When a good, well-meaning man who wants to make everyone happy eternally is given the power to achieve his dreams, even if that dream fundamentally robs those whose dreams he seeks to actualize of their agency to choose, it was hard to argue against his most basic wish.

Akira frowned as he looked down at his hands, sitting limply in his lap as the others haltingly tried to figure out what they could still do. They hadn’t managed to get through his palace; they never made it through the Eden garden to the other side. He tried to come up with reasons why they’d gotten to this point, why they’d never managed to get to his treasure in the end. Maybe it was just exhausting to get through his palace, or the constant psychological examinations they had to do to get safely through one area to the next tired him out, but he knew that that was just an excuse. Saying that Maruki’s fundamental desires and plan were hard to argue against was just an excuse. After witnessing the tragedy that was Maruki trying to make his way through life, hitting one road block after another, making him fall over and over, AKira could feel his will to fight crumble in his chest. The man that he had respected, even more than that, cared about, and having to witness in unflinching detail the memories and events that lead him to want such an intense form of non-negotiable happiness… It was hard to see him as anything other than broken.

And even now as he sat here in the attic surrounded by his teammates, he knew that even that was only part of the problem. Once they realized the palace holder’s identity, he knew that he would have to face aspects of Maruki he didn’t want to see, that he didn’t want to be privy to. Even after hearing about Rumi from Maruki himself, before all of this started, when they were little more than a school counselor and student playing at being friends, at being equals, a dark feeling wedged itself into Akira’s heart, and it had only been festering all this time without him ever realizing it. It was the moment he laid eyes on that larger than life effigy of Rumi in the garden, when he realized that there wasn’t just one statue for her in Eden and that they were everywhere, that he felt something shift inside him that only served to further sap the rebellious energy out of him, and it was the most pathetic reason.

Jealousy. Even as the catalyst to everything Maruki was doing, even if Maruki told Akira over and over again that he was like a “guiding light” for him, that he wouldn’t be anywhere in his research without his invaluable help, what Akira wanted...was more than just to be a fleeting inspiration or a soundboard for the kind-hearted, yet impossibly stubborn psychologist. He knew it was something he’d likely never admit to the man himself, a feeling that he would harbor within and never admit to out loud to anyone, like so many other emotions that he kept from those in his life so as not to trouble them. But when he saw that statue of her, _those_ statues… The secret he hid churned inside him in a way he was not prepared for. It poisoned him.

“Akira?”

He looked up minutely when he heard his name, not really looking at anyone in particular.

“We’ll talk to him regardless tomorrow, right?” Morgana asked, looking at him from the table they’d all gathered around.

He nodded in answer, not really knowing what else to say.

“Could it…” Makoto postulated, hesitant, “Could it be that...we just couldn’t accept our own reality over Maruki’s?”

There was a lull when no one could come up with the immediate answer, or didn’t know how to admit that it could be the case.

Akechi shifted impatiently beside Akira as Ryuji tried to sooth Makoto. “H-hey that’s not...necessarily right. Right, Akira?”

All eyes turned to him. Normally when the team would start to feel the weight of their choices bearing down on them, or the uncertainty of whether what they were planning would work out, or that it was the right thing to do for their collective idea of justice, it was he that could always give them words of encouragement. He was their Leader, after all; when things seemed dire, they always looked to him. A guiding light…

But not this time. He furrowed his brow and looked down, being met with a frustrated huff from Ryuji at his lack of an answer.

“Let’s...break for today,” Morgana suggested. “We’ll meet again tomorrow and do what we have to.”

Akira stood automatically when the others who were seated did so and he walked them down to Leblanc proper and held the front door open for them, letting them back out into the cold winter night. Akechi hesitated at the end of the line and looked hard at Akira, his hand on the door. Their gazes met for a moment, but Akira dropped his eyes soon after. He could see the frustration on his face, and he knew why he felt that way. Of all the people in their group, Akechi had been the most vocally opposed to every facet of Maruki’s philosophy about their new reality, about his complete control to making everyone’s dreams come true. Akechi valued his personal freedom over anything else, good or bad, so for Akira to stumble to the point that they wouldn’t make the deadline… 

Disappointment from Akechi felt like a cold shard of glass between his ribs.

He heard a huff and a jingle of the bell as the door closed behind the once Detective Prince. Save Morgana, Akira was alone, and the chill only seeped further under his coat.

He reached to take his glasses off and folded the arms closed, looking down at them absently. Just another mask he wore.

_A juvenile delinquent. The mysterious transfer student. The Leader of the Phantom Thieves. Humanity’s Savior. Kid. Young man. Rival. Inmate. Joker.  
_

He gripped the glasses in his hand a moment, wishing they’d break and yet knowing they wouldn’t before relaxing his fist again.

“Hey...Akira?”

He turned to look at Morgana and the cat frowned at his exhausted expression, “Hey. Let’s just...let’s get some sleep, okay?”

Sleep. One more thing to delay the inevitability of tomorrow, but it would do him some good at least. At this moment, it was the only thing he didn’t look toward with contempt.

\---

When he woke again, he wasn’t lying down in bed. Akira lifted his head with some effort and leaned forward, realizing that he had woken up sitting back in a chair. Had he sleepwalked down to a booth in the cafe or something…? The room didn’t smell right for that…

He reached to touch his head, blinking the bleariness from his eyes when he realized that he wasn’t dressed in his black long sleeved pajamas. He was in stripes. He recognized the prisoner outfit immediately. Was he in the Velvet Room?

But his chains were missing…

“It seems you couldn’t reach a decision.”

The voice stopped his heart for a moment and completely woke him up.

 _Maruki_.

He turned sharply to his right to find Maruki sitting in the chair he always did when they would meet in the… He glanced at the chair he sat in and blinked at his surroundings. They were in the nurse’s office at Shujin? No, Maruki was wearing his palace uniform. He’d never dreamed of Maruki in this place in anything besides his lab coat and khakis.

Akira dropped his hand as he set his teeth together, looking at Maruki with alarm. This wasn’t a dream, he realized, at least not in the sense that he was imagining this. It was a dream like the Velvet Room was a dream, he could feel it. A pocket reality; this was really happening. But why would Maruki call on him like this…?

“I’ll be honest,” Maruki continued, interrupting his train of thought as his hands crossed over his lap, “I had expected you to make your way entirely through the lab or come to me if you had changed your mind, but I suppose giving you a deadline was always going to make it so that we would meet on the second or third regardless.”

Akira’s eyebrows pinched together as he finally dropped his gaze, looking at the table both of their chairs faced. It was empty.

“So, is it that you weren’t able to convince yourselves that you needed to fight?”

“No.”

Maruki frowned at that, “I see.”

“I was weak,” Akira admitted, his voice wavering as he looked at his hands. Even if his last few visits to the Velvet Room hadn’t kept him in the prison clothes, because his cognition there had released him of his chains, it was familiar, but not having the restraints felt strange. The cuffs had dirtied and worn away the ends of his sleeves. They were crumpled and stained, even more than the stans and tears on the rest of the outfit. He wasn't sure he'd seen the ends of his sleeves until now.

“Weak? Kurusu-kun…” Maruki admonished. “That is the last thing anyone could ever say about you.”

That earned him a scoff and Maruki looked a little taken-aback. It made sense, most of their conversations were academic and thought-provoking, and when they did get personal Maruki was always careful to respect the very clear boundaries that Akira had raised in their first session. He knew about Akira’s circumstances that brought him to Tokyo in the first place. That combined with the tumultuous school situation involving Kamoshida immediately after arriving on his first day were hard situations for anyone, and Maruki seemed at the time to really think well of him just based on the fact that Akira, what, wasn’t a wreck when they first spoke? He’d been impressed and spoke about a depth of character that was eerily accurate, and as nice as the compliments about his strength were, Akira hadn’t really wanted him to be able to peer into his soul even more if he could surmise all he had from a few pieces of a paper and a short exchange.

“I’ve seen bits and pieces of what you’ve gone through in other palaces… I saw nothing but strength in what you’ve done,” he continued, breaking Akira’s drifting thoughts again. “I may not have entirely understood what was happening contextually, but I know about cognitive psience and the collective unconscious. What you do in a very literal sense is something most people can’t even accomplish in a metaphorical one.”

“Personas?” Akira asked, his tone just a hair above deadpanned.

“Yes,” he answered, reaching to adjust his glasses, “Everyone has a light and dark persona inherently, and while there are certainly people who may have an affinity for one or more particular series of archetypes, you seem to be able to wield any archetype at any time with no problem. You can move seamlessly between completely disparate cognitive masks almost as if you were born to do it. It’s absolutely stunning to watch, if I’m being honest.”

The direct praise from Maruki wasn’t something he really experienced that much, especially when it came to a skill he didn’t really understand yet acknowledged that it was something he was good at. It wasn’t a compliment for just talking to him and listening to what he had to say, this was about something inherent to who he was, an immutable fact about him: that he was an enigma of a person who can shape-shift into whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

And yet when that compliment should have warmed his chest, all that warmth did was stir the ugly blackness of the thorn in his heart.

“So I’m good at pretending to be anyone, what kind of strength does that mean I have?” Akira asked, turning his head like he’s going to look at Maruki but deciding not to at the last second, dropping his gaze to his shoes. The shoes were sleek and modern just like the rest of his outfit.

“What do you mean by that?” Maruki asked, adjusting a bit in his seat to sit up and Akira moved his eyes away from him again and back to the table. “Kurusu-kun. If you’re in pain, you know that I have the faculties to take it away. If you’re unsure of yourself, I can soothe that, believe me.”

Akira moved his mouth a moment before speaking. “So the only reason that nothing changed about me in January was because you didn’t know,” Akira postulated, more to himself than to suggest Maruki defend or explain the methodology of his cognitive warping. “You have to be made aware of the pain for you to fix it.”

Maruki was silent for a moment, so Akira added, “And after tonight, that will no longer be a problem?”

He heard a sigh from the other chair, “That’s right. After tonight, my palace will have completely merged with the collective unconscious of Tokyo. I won’t be entirely omniscient, but it will be far better than my limited reach in your reality.”

Akira’s frown wavered a little at the corners and he swallowed. “And you’ve sacrificed everything for that goal. You won’t accept anything less.”

His answer wasn’t immediate, but after a few beats of silence, Maruki replied, “Kurusu-kun. Will you look at me for a minute?”

The phantom thief took a breath to steady himself and sat up a smidge, looking back at Maruki this time, meeting his eyes. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for his gaze to slide slightly down so he was still looking at his face, but not directly meeting his gaze. His dark, warm eyes were too much for him. Especially right now.

Maruki’s serious expression withered a little bit as he read the exhaustion in Akira’s gaze. “Please, whatever it is, I want to help you. I knew how to help your friends, and I thought I knew how to help you, but I can’t make you happy unless you tell me.”

“What did you think would make me happy, then?” Akira asked, not realizing he’d actually done anything for him at all. It had felt like everyone else had changed _but_ him. Bringing loved ones back to life, erasing life-altering circumstances and consequences, even granting Morgana the human body he was always sure he wanted. It made some sense that he couldn’t erase circumstances that could negate the two of them meeting. The worst things that had happened to Akira so far were like dominos sending him to Tokyo in the first place. Otherwise, he and Maruki would have never met and there would be no research paper, and no research paper meant no palace. But, even still, nothing about his circumstances or personality or memories had changed at all.

Maruki turned his head slightly, looking to be considering something before answering, “I...brought Akechi-kun back to you.”

Akira blinked, furrowing his brow as he sat up a little straighter. “Akechi?”

“I thought...it was tragic, how you two seemed to have such a complex relationship that ended the way that it did. I wanted him to have a second chance, and for the two of you to have one as well,” he said carefully.

Akechi...did that mean that…he’d really died in Shido’s palace? That the Akechi that approached Niijima and himself on Christmas Eve to turn himself in was a cognitive version? Did his palace’s reach go that far back? But he said he remembered being interrogated…

“So you brought him back...released him from prison...so we could be friends again?” he asked.

Maruki shrugged a little bit with a smile, his eyebrows pinching up in the center.

Akira nearly winced and dropped his face back down again. So if they had gone through with stealing his treasure, sent the calling card, and won...Akechi would be…

“I didn’t want to tell you unless I had to. I’m sorry,” Maruki said quickly, sitting up a little in his chair, “I didn’t want it to seem like I was holding his life hostage as a bargaining chip to get you to reconsider--”

“But you would have, if you felt like you had to, right?” Akira asked. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, leaning back in the seat and letting his head fall and rest on the surface of the chair behind him. These chairs were always so nice. He hadn’t been in the nurse’s office before they’d hired Maruki, but he wouldn’t put it past the school administration to get these chairs just for counseling sessions, even if he would only be employed there for a little over half of the school year. They didn’t fit with the rest of the nurse’s office furnishings one bit, so where else would they have come from?

Well...it didn’t matter now. He’d never be back in for a comfortable, brain-teasing discussion about the philosophy of broken hearts and the psychology of taste and scarcity ever again. Teasing Maruki about getting scratched up by a cat he was trying to rescue or being scammed by a man asking for money at the subway. Would he ever get to serve him coffee at Leblanc again?

“Maruki-san.”

“Yes, Kurusu-kun?”

Akira adjusted in the chair, leaning his head forward as he reached up to fidget at his bangs, moving them one way and then another before dropping his hand. “There’s nothing I can do to make you abandon this?”

“No… I’m afraid there isn’t.”

Yeah, he figured. If the Phantom Thieves were going to stop resisting because Akira did, then that took care of them. They’d go back to their blissful lives and likely forget what they’d been doing for the past month. But...that didn’t completely get rid of the possibility of rebellion, even if futile, later on, because he still existed. So, it followed that Maruki would need to take care of that...element, right? Akira’s mouth thinned.

“What are you going to do with me, then?”

Maruki looked almost startled at the question, “ ‘Do’ with you?”

“Why are we here? To talk?”

The man hesitates a moment, clearly thrown a bit by the question. “Isn’t...that what we always did here?” Maruki asked in an almost soft voice. “Talk?”

Akira’s lips pinch a bit and he has to forcibly relax the line of his mouth, although it takes him longer to similarly smooth the crimp between his eyebrows.

Maruki seemed to stiffen as he realized what Akira was getting at, “...you don’t think I want to--to get _rid_ of you, do you?”

Akira fidgeted with his hands, “Not...that you would want to. But that it would come to that, or erasing my memory or something.”

“I’m not going to end your life,” Maruki said with an inarguable firmness. “And...if we could come to an agreement, right here, I won’t have to do anything besides whatever it is you want to make you happy. It doesn’t matter how frivolous or small it seems to you, Kurusu-kun, I mean it.” He laughs a little and Akira looks over at him when he does, Maruki’s gloved hand reaching up to touch along his hairline a moment, only exposed when he combed it back, like when he was dressed like this. “I realize...that it almost sounds like I’m begging just to be able to give you something, but, it’s true that I feel incredibly indebted to you. I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t have been able to move forward with all of that work I’d done for all those years if you hadn’t come into my life. I may have come into my cognitive power before I met you, but you really…” He let his hand fall and looked at Akira with an earnest expression, “You’ve changed my life. I know I’ve told you this, but it never really feels like you hear me when I say it.” He chuckles a bit after a beat, “Maybe that’s not something you feel very good about hearing now, considering the circumstances.”

This was the Maruki he missed. Just like this, right here, but it was some twisted version of it. It was the right man in the right room, but...but… God it was almost too much. It felt like there was a dam breaking in his chest and if he didn’t do something soon, he’d drown in his own body.

Akira looked away, but it wasn’t fast enough to be able to hide his face from Maruki. He could practically feel the prickling in his chest.

“I shouldn’t have forced the choice on you,” Maruki said, shaking his head, self-admonishing, “That’s what’s causing this isn’t it? I overwhelmed you with all of this and I shouldn’t have done that from the start.”

Akira wrinkled his nose at the prospect, eager to get him off whatever train of thought he was on “I saw...what happened,” he started, taking a breath, “with...Rumi...and with your research.”

It worked, Maruki falling silent at his statement. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the tops of his knees, fidgeting his hands together like he tended to do when they talked and he was paying close attention or explaining something particularly complex. “I see.”

He hadn’t really thought of where he was going with what he said, so he just said the first thing that came to mind. “Your change to Rumi… If we took down your palace, would that have reversed it?” Akira asked, knowing the answer didn’t matter nor did it have any real point in raising it to begin with.

After a moment Maruki shook his head, “You’re changing the subject.”

He couldn’t help but smile briefly at that, “Yeah.”

“If...if what’s hurting you is the change going forward, please don’t worry so much about it,” he hedged, trying to take another stab at solving Akira’s hidden sorrow, “I know such a drastic difference from how things used to be hasn’t helped you concentrate on what to do or what to decide, and I should have considered that when I gave you your deadline before.” Maruki sat up a little bit, fidgeting with the edge of one of his gloves, “If you want to stay in Leblanc even after the school year ends, I can arrange that for you. I can understand if you don’t want to go back home. You can finish your schooling with your friends at Shujin that way, too.” Maruki paused and when Akira didn’t react to his offer he prodded, “How about it?”

“Will _you_ come back to Shujin?” the boy asked, looking at Maruki that time. He knew the answer, but he wanted to force Maruki to acknowledge that he had priorities. He had self-imposed limitations in granting whatever Akira wanted, and as tired as juggling the entirety of the last year has made him, knowing that not a scrap of the happiness he cultivated for himself was going to stay unaltered was the hammer hovering over the last nail.

Maruki deflated a little bit, but he smiled apologetically, “You already know the answer to that. Is that what will make you happy?”

Deflected. “Yes.”

Maruki’s smile almost turned wry at his obstinate answer and Akira's stomach flipped, the thorn piercing further into him. “Somehow I doubt it.”

Akira all but scowled before looking at the green tiled floor under his feet. “Maruki-sensei…” He knew he sounded petulant, but what else was he supposed to do? Maruki opened his mouth to speak but Akira cut him off, “Why don’t you believe me?”

Maruki didn’t have an immediate answer, it took him a moment. He shifted his feet on the ground and sat back in the chair. “Because you can get academic conversations, regardless of their subject matter, from plenty of other people. I’m not the only person--”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he interrupted, looking back at him seriously, and whatever was in his face or his tone this time gave Maruki pause. “I don’t care about playing chess or having verbal sparring matches or chatting philosophy with Akechi, who doesn’t even _want_ to be here. Even if I want him to be...” He can feel his throat starting to restrict and he blinks and looks away, reaching up to push his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to...to have to wonder every single day if you’re happy with what you’re doing and knowing I’ll never be able to ask you. To see all the little things that remind me of you and...and know that I…”

“Kurusu-kun…” he murmured, his voice soft and a little apologetic. It didn’t really help curb Akira’s pain, in fact, it really only made it worse. “If I’m the one causing you pain…”

Akira released a shuddering sigh. “You’re going to erase yourself from our memories tomorrow, aren’t you?” he asked miserably. It was the most logical place he would go from here.

Maruki froze up, and all Akira could do was sigh again. It took a few moments of silence, but when it became apparent that Akira was waiting on Maruki to answer, he spoke up.

“I didn’t...want to do that to you unless I felt like I had to,” he said, starting a little hesitant but gaining his confidence as he kept speaking, “And it sounds like that’s the best course of action, Kurusu-kun.”

Akira smiled bitterly and looked at Maruki, “You’ll brainwash me into accepting your paradise? I thought you wanted to give me the option to reject you.”

He was rewarded with an exasperated look, “Kurusu-kun,” he admonished. He drug a hand through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment, Akira watching the movement, not really having many opportunities to see Maruki frustrated. One of the many personality aspects they shared was their stubbornness, and it had become pretty clear that this time, Maruki’s was winning out over his own.

“ ‘If you don’t remember me…you can’t miss me,’ right?” Akira asked in a quiet, tired tone.

Maruki didn’t answer, but he didn’t look at him either, not immediately. Akira leaned back into the seat, the anxiety in his heart making way for the dull melancholy to finally start settling in. At least the melancholy was calming, the slow creep of acceptance over his heart almost felt relieving. “Will you miss me, Maruki-sensei?”

He looked over to Maruki when he didn’t answer immediately, even with a sigh or a curt answer, and he met his gaze, and Akira couldn’t quite parse what it was. It wasn’t a familiar one for him, he’d never seen it on Maruki’s face before, but it looked...restrained, if a touch exasperated. The counselor dropped his hand from his hair and stayed slouching a bit in his seat, “I’ll always know where you are.”

It wasn't really like Maruki to so deliberately avoid a direct answer. “So, you won’t?” Akira asked, trying to sound lighter than the answer made him feel. The flood that had been rising in his chest was fit to burst out from the back of his throat at this rate. So much for soothing.

“Of course I will.”

The corner of Akira’s mouth twitched but the overwhelming need to sob ruined his reflex to smile. God this was really going to happen, wasn’t it? He could only keep Maruki here in this dream-Shujin for so long and delay the inevitable of whatever he decided to do.

He remembers the happy looks on his friend’s faces when they were living the lives that Maruki gave them, with the people he gave back to them and the tragedies and betrayals no longer burdening them. They were all still friends, but it wasn’t the same like this, they didn’t have the trauma to bring them all together and rely on one another like they had been before, because before it was something they needed. No injustices to fight against, no power-hungry adults to overcome, no warped society to correct. He was their leader, but now what did he even lead? Nothing… So, if he wasn’t needed by them…

“Maruki-san…” he murmured, his voice breaking as he spoke.

He heard movement from the chair and started a bit when Maruki leaned down on one knee to his right in front of his chair and reached for him. It took until his thumb grazed his cheek for him to realize his face was wet. At some point he’d started crying.

He took a shuddering breath, and then another, then swallowed, trying not to break down completely even now. Raising his hand, he pressed it against Maruki’s against his face, wanting to keep his touch there for just a little while longer. This might...even be the first time he’d ever touched him? He wasn't sure. He felt so warm…

Akira shook all over as he did his best to contain himself and Maruki let him cry without saying a word, his hand pressed between Akira’s own and his cheek, tears spilling out every so often to follow where the glove fabric was pressed against his skin. Occasionally Maruki's thumb moved across the bend of Akira’s cheek to wipe at a tear or break the wet trail over his skin, and eventually the boy's features started to soothe, the tension easing out of his face little by little until the tears stopped and the exhaustion that had been there before was only further enhanced by the red under his eyes and the red of his nose.

Akira sniffed as he reached up to wipe at the other side of his face, not yet letting go of Maruki’s hand.

“When was the last time you cried?” Maruki asked in a soft, sweet voice.

Akira’s answering chuckle was wet and thick, “Ahaha, maybe when...Akechi died.” He sniffed again, “Before that I...I don’t know...”

“Would you be upset, all things considered, if I said it was refreshing to see you cry?” Maruki followed up with an undercurrent of knowing amusement. His other hand came up to rub similarly against Akira’s other cheek, both thumbs moving in tandem under his eyes to finish the job.

That earned him a chuckle and Maruki smiled gently over at him in return. Akira shook his head, his thumb and forefinger sliding down the sides of Maruki’s hand to his wrist to play with the edge of his glove. “No.”

Maruki’s arm stiffened a little, Akira could feel it when his fingertips came in contact with the exposed skin of his wrist, between the end of his glove and the beginning of his sleeve. This was the first time he’d ever touched his skin. He cast his eyes down at nothing in particular, his middle finger skating underneath the fabric.

“...Kurusu-kun…?”

Akira blinked when he heard his name but didn’t answer verbally, hesitating a brief moment before pressing his finger further in, the soft pad pressing tight between the tendons connecting Maruki’s first and second knuckles to his wrist and the blended white fabric of the glove. He’d always liked Maruki’s hands, masculine and a little angular. His fingers were slender and a little boney, and they fit with the physique of the rest of him. He bent his middle finger a moment before extending his ring finger underneath to join it under the glove.

He could feel the creaky stiffness of the joints of his fingers as Maruki seemed to be torn between moving and staying in place, but his barely twitching fingers effectively communicated whatever mental conflict he was going through about as well as if he had spoken at all. Akira made a slow circle over the back of his hand before trailing over the side of his palm then towards the center of it. His own fingers separated his cheek from Maruki’s palm but he didn’t move his face, even as Maruki jerked a little when the wandering digits pressed up along the sensitive center of his hand. Maruki inhaled and Akira looked at him, his gray puffy eyes that were slowly recovering meeting the conflicted burnt umber eyes of the man who would in a few hours time become nigh akin to a demigod. And here he was, not knowing how to react to someone else touching him.

Akira couldn’t help but laugh, his exploration halted for a moment as he did. Maruki swallowed and cleared his throat, some of the tension broken. The boy sniffed again and tugged up under the glove to pull it up further, most of the soft underside of his hand revealed now.

“A-Akira, I--”

“Can I have your glove, too?” he asked, the fact that Maruki had used his first name registering late in his ear. He pressed his lips together with a little smile, glancing at Maruki’s face, which looked somewhere between embarrassed and maybe shame, before leaning to nuzzle into his open palm. He could more feel the wetness on the glove from his tears than on his hand; all he could sense against his skin was the smell of Maruki.

“T-too…?” Maruki choked out.

“Akechi gave me his,” Akira explained, bringing his hand all the way around to run up the undersides of Maruki’s fingers, peeling the rest of the garment off with that one gesture. He put his hand back on the other side of Maruki’s so that he couldn’t pull away again, the half inside-out glove pressed between their bare hands now. “If you’re going to leave me, I want yours.”

Maruki set his teeth together, looking on at his previous student with a mixture of emotions. Sitting in this familiar place in an unfamiliar outfit, expressing unfamiliar emotions and being far more honest about himself than he’d ever been before. He used the hand Akira hadn’t captured to push his glasses back up his nose and Akira noticed his hand shaking a little bit.

“If Akechi gave you his, he’ll be there when you wake up. Why do you need mine?”

Akira moved his face a bit so he could speak more easily. “He threw his at me as a promise that we’ll duel in the future. If he’s going to be alive now, then I can give it back to him anytime he wants to collect on that promise we made.”

Maruki’s gaze shifted to the wadded up glove in Akira’s hand before moving back to his face. “So...do you want me to make you a promise?”

A chuckle escaped him, “The promise I’d ask for isn’t something you’d agree to.”

Maruki sighed and Akira grinned a little before letting it ease back. Maybe it was because he cried earlier, but this was almost comfortable, if anything about this could be considered comfortable. It could be because he had finally resigned to the fact that he’d lost against Maruki. At this point, he just wanted to lose as little as he possibly could when everything really started.

Then again, he knew he had so much still to lose, but... this was going to be the last however long it would be until he didn’t know when. He couldn’t know exactly what he’d lose, what opportunities, memories, relationships, or feelings would disappear.

He took a breath and then another one. “Maruki-san.”

He was answered with a raised head and when he swallowed instead, Maruki’s face grew concerned.

“Takuto.”

The concern in his face became flustered and then wary. “Don’t--”

“I’m in love with you.”

Maruki stared at him with wide eyes for a few silent moments before he turned his head down and away, the only part of his face that he could see was his furrowed brow. Akira felt the fingers against his cheek curl up towards the palm they were attached to, like a wilting flower’s petals. Maruki’s other hand, the one with the glove still on, moved to rest on his own bent knee, gripping the fabric a little bit.

After a moment Akira spoke. “Sorry… I know it’s selfish, especially now…” he said, loosening his grip on Maruki’s hand, curled up now against his cheek, expecting he’d want to take it back. “But… I didn’t want to regret never telling you.”

“Regret…” Maruki muttered and shook his head. After a few moments of silence, he leaned forward just a bit, resting his forehead on Akira’s knee and Akira’s body stilled. Maruki hadn’t taken his hand back, either.

They fell into an unsteady silence, Maruki obscuring his face as Akira waited for him to speak. After a little while when it was clear, at least for the moment, that Maruki wasn’t going to retrieve his extended limb, Akira resumed his grip on his wrist and moved it down, letting the minor knuckles graze against the soft skin of his neck, tap his clavicle, before settling it just to the left of his sternum. His hand was loose and easy to manipulate, so Akira turned his hand by his wrist and extended out his fingers one by one with his other hand until it laid flat on his chest. Maruki’s complexion was darker than his, darker than most people he’d met, and it really showed while he was extending each of his fingers, his own fingers drawing themselves over his. His warmth immediately began to seep through the dirty prison shirt and into his skin once it laid flat. He placed one of his hands on top of Maruki’s to anchor him, the other loosely wrapped around his wrist, and closed his eyes. He felt the weight on his knee lift but kept his eyes closed, wanting to keep the warmth on his chest just a little longer.

“Your clothes…”

“Hm?”

“You’re...dressed like a prisoner? Why?”

Akira smiled briefly, “You’re the therapist. You tell me.”

The fingers he’d caged against his chest moved a little bit, the thumb in particular. “You...don’t consider yourself to be a free agent? There’s some part of you that is holding you back, either your self-image within the situation you’re in, or an aspect of your psyche that is trapping you. You aren’t wearing restraints...but your clothes are dirty and well worn. Do you think you deserve to be punished?”

Akira opened his eyes and looked down at Maruki, who was busy looking at the horizontal stripes over his legs. “That last one sounds more like you.”

Maruki let out a brief, airy chuckle, “...I suppose it does.”

Despite his trepidation, Akira added, “Now who’s changing the subject?”

His expression became serious again at the reminder. His dark eyes fell to the hands piled up on Akira’s chest and his fingers curled a little bit, “...I don’t know what to say.”

Akira’s heart ached a little at that answer, and he was sure Maruki could feel it, “You do,” he insisted, “you just don’t want to.”

Maruki just barely flinched, and despite that confirmation that he was right, it still didn’t say what he felt about it.

“If I had told you the same thing back when we were still having sessions at Shujin, before all of this happened, what would your answer be?”

“That you’re a minor, and I’m your counselor.”

“Since when did either of those things stop you from being my friend instead of my authority figure?”

Maruki didn’t answer immediately, a flash of guilt crossing his features, so Akira added, “You’re usually a very straight-forward person, so those sound like excuses. If you told one of the girls at school that when she confessed to you, she would think you wanted to but that you can’t.”

“Is that what it sounds like?”

“You know it does,” Akira replied. He looked at their hands a moment, “... I'd rather you turn me down quickly. ‘Let’s just stay friends,’ like that.”

Maruki was quiet a moment, closed his eyes with a frustrated frown before letting out a breath and easing his expression as he looked into the middle distance. “If you had told me back then, I would have told you that I was your counselor, and you were a minor. When that wouldn’t have persuaded you to drop it on your own… I would have probably said, ‘There are far better people than me. You’ll find someone else, someone worthy of being with you.’ Would that have been enough?”

Akira frowned, “...I would disagree with you.”

Maruki did laugh at that, shortly, self-deprecating, “What in the world do you see in me?”

“Everything you’ve shown me,” he answered, “There isn’t a single thing about you that I hate.” That earned him a deeply incredulous look and Akira huffed, using the hands on Maruki’s to push himself to sit back up in the chair. Maruki’s hand fell to his lap and was quickly retrieved when it did. “How does a man that aims to rid the world of pain by his own internal morals think so little of himself?”

Maruki frowned and retorted, “I interpret what people want based on the work and research I’ve put into cognitive psience and what I can see with my palace surveillance. It doesn’t have to do with my personal morals; it’s not an opinion that pain should be gotten rid of. It hurts people, and there is pain that people will die from experiencing, and I want to erase it from their lives and replace it with only good things. It’s basic psychological health.”

“It’s your morals that determine when and when not to intervene and how, more than circumstantial consequences or your research,” Akira declared. Despite Maruki minutely shaking his head in disagreement, he added, “What about your research would tell you to erase how I feel about you?”

He stuttered a moment before finding his resolve and answering, “Because...because loving someone like me can’t bring you happiness.”

“Why not?”

“...”

“Maruki-san,” Akira started, the energy of his anger starting to ebb, “If right now isn’t the time to just be honest with me…” He chuckled, “Haha, you can just tell me and erase my memory immediately, can’t you? What’s the point in hesitating?”

“I’ve already caused you… I’ve already been the reason you’ve experienced so much pain…”

“Maruki-san,” Akira said again, reaching to touch his face to encourage him to look at him, his fingertips barely touching his jaw, and he did immediately, “Of all of the people that have hurt me throughout my life, you don’t even come close to the worst one. Even with everything happening right now, as tired as I am, nothing you’ve ever done or said can come close to the horrible things those other people have done to me.” He leaned over a bit to better look down at Maruki, very gingerly touching against his jaw, stealing what he can, “Even if you tell me you don’t love me, I know that it isn’t because you hate me or think I’m some stupid, disgusting kid who doesn’t understand what he’s saying.” He paused to read Maruki’s expression, his pinched eyebrows not telling him anything, so he added, “I can handle knowing you don’t love me, but I hate being told things that only hide the truth from me. Please don’t underestimate me.”

Maruki looked into his eyes for a moment, an internal struggle happening just behind them that Akira couldn’t parse. He removed his touch from his jaw, clean shaven and fairly smooth despite all the times he’d imagined touching his face feeling less so, and Maruki shifted in his stance on the floor. Akira felt disappointed as he moved to straighten his back in anticipation of Maruki standing up, but when Maruki leaned closer to him, he blinked and stopped. The other man hesitated, just for a breath, before closing the distance and kissing him.

Akira’s head spun. He was certain Maruki was going to just side step again and dodge giving him a straight answer, holding on to his inhuman stubbornness even until the bitter end, or at the very least as nicely as possible, just tell him he didn’t feel the same way. He knew he’d been in love with Rumi, and maybe never anyone else, but that he’d...even the possibility that he’d reciprocate…

The kiss broke far too soon, Maruki moving back to look at Akira’s face, and it was then that he realized he hadn’t kissed him back, that he’d just sat there dumbfounded through the whole thing. Akira grabbed Maruki as he looked like he was about to say something and kissed him in return, reciprocating properly this time. His hands grabbed at his shoulders and slid up to his face, fingers running over the imperfect line of his jaw, the flat of his cheek, the hair by his ear, bumping his glasses and withdrawing slightly as he realized what it was. He was too excited, it was hard to focus on anything besides desperately kissing him back and touching and grabbing on to him to make sure he didn’t pull back just yet. Heat was flooding his body, evaporating the melancholy into a drive he hadn’t really felt before and wasn’t sure he understood just yet. He wanted to kiss him forever.

A warm pressure wrapped around his side and he gasped, breaking the kiss, realizing on a delay that it was Maruki’s hand. He took the distraction as an opportunity to calm down a little, running his hand through Maruki’s hair and kissing him again, slower, steadier this time, with a focus on enjoying it. Even with his usually unruly hair slicked back like this, it didn’t feel bad to touch. It was a little coarse, but felt so pleasant to feel the locks curl and spread between his fingers. His other hand skimmed over Maruki’s ear and into his hair as well, his arms bent and angled over the broad set of his shoulders. Wow this...this was really happening. He shifted his knees and realized Maruki’s torso was between them and smiled against his lips, tightening his thighs around him. Maruki gasped, taking the breath through his nose and straightened his back. Despite it breaking the kiss again, it was the exact reaction Akira wanted, and he chuckled.

“Akira…” Maruki murmured, his voice thick.

“I didn’t think…you’d want me…”

Maruki sighed against his mouth, “How could I not?”

“But...before…” he tried but was interrupted when Maruki kissed him again, a little stronger this time. It pushed him back a bit, but Maruki could only lean forward so far, so Akira wrapped his arms around his head and kept him against him. Both of Maruki’s hands slipped to the top of the seat cushion to better steady himself, one shifting to snake around Akira’s hips and pull him forward. Akira moaned a little bit in the back of his throat. He felt the shiver response rattle straight up Maruki’s spine and decided to push a little, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

The doctor took a breath, breaking the kiss again, and loosened his hold around his hips to straighten back up. Akira let him move back but didn’t take his arms from around his neck. Not yet.

“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” Maruki asked, a little winded, looking at him again. His ears were red and his hair just a little mussed from Akira combing through it.

Akira bit his lower lip to suppress a laugh and eased it out. Maruki caught the expression and tore his eyes away from his mouth with some effort. That did make Akira chuckle.

Maruki sighed good-naturedly, though his smile sobered up a bit as he spoke, “I didn’t want...to burden you with how I felt about you. I wasn’t ready when I realized what it was, to do anything with it...and to be honest, I don’t know if I am still.”

The topic sobered Akira similarly, but he didn’t withdraw from him as he considered his admission.

“I don’t know what sort of change all of this will have on me,” he continued, “I’m pretty sure I’ll remain as I am, at least physically. It’s the palace and my connection to it, my persona, that will do a lot of the work regulating the needs and wants of everyone. I don’t know how far my reach will spread in the end, I hope that the collective unconscious will take my abilities globally, even if it takes time for my reach to extend that far.”

He blinked a moment and sighed, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to Akira’s chest, “Sorry, I know I’m rambling.”

Akira’s smile was gentle and adoring as he petted the hair that settled against Maruki’s neck. “I’ve missed your rambling.”

Maruki shook his head side to side and sighed again, “You’re so patient.”

Even with everything that had happened between the two of them, Akira never truly felt afraid of Maruki, even when he well demonstrated his persona’s abilities to forcibly change personas to his own will. It was a powerful show of will, but Akira knew, maybe only deep down at the time, that Maruki would never do that to him. Maruki gave them a month to decide on what to do even though he was ready to finish merging with the metaverse in far less time. He could have changed their cognitions any moment he wanted to completely obfuscate their rebellion in the first place and keep them in blissful ignorance. But he didn’t on purpose, to give them a chance to consent or reject him on their own, leaving himself open for the possibility of his palace being completely ransacked and his treasure found. He respected all of them that much.

“I think I’d do just about anything for you, Maruki-san,” Akira said, still smiling as he leaned down to press his lips to the wavy head of hair clutched in his hands.

“I...I don’t deserve any devotion like that from anyone, let alone you,” he muttered.

“A demigod that doesn’t want to be worshipped…”

Maruki made a disgusted sound, “Please don’t. You know I’m not doing this because I’m despotic.”

Akira made an unsure noise and Maruki’s shoulders slouched a little, “Tyrannical. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” the boy reassured, “You’re just so fun to tease.”

The head pressed against his chest started to move away, so Akira let go and Maruki shifted to his feet and stood just enough so he could sit on the table. He shifted his knees so only one was between Akira’s and the other on the outside. He pushed up his glasses with his knuckle, his complexion still a little flushed. “So...what do you want to do?”

Akira knocked his knees against Maruki’s as he replied, “Let me stay with you.”

Maruki looked away, his mouth flattening.

“The metaverse will stay, so I’ll always be able to summon a persona… What if...I did that for you?”

Maruki looked at him quizzically, so Akira continued, “You don’t know what kinds of problems are going to come up later on, since the metaverse is going to stay intact and open. We fought a god before you completely awakened, so there’s no telling what other obstacles you’re going to face.”

Maruki stared at him for a long moment before he cleared his throat and said, “You...want to _help_?”

Akira nodded and Maruki’s unsure look spurned him to add, “That way...I don’t have to have my memories of you erased...and I can still stay with you…”

“Akira… You should have the opportunity to have a normal, happy life,” Maruki retorted, his tone serious, when Akira interrupted.

“You’re deciding things for me again.”

Maruki furrowed his eyebrows, clearly struggling again, “This is a burden I don’t want to give you.”

“If I wanted to live in blissful ignorance, I’d ask for it,” Akira replied, “If I wanted to live like a normal person for the rest of my life, I’d ask for it. ...even back home, before the assault charge, I never found anything interesting for very long. I always wanted things far out of my reach with no way to get it. After I was sent to Tokyo, it was the first time I ever wanted normalcy again, but it was...exciting to be in such a big, new place, with all new kinds of people.”

Maruki watched Akira speak and listened patiently, his fingers interlaced as he put his hands together, hunched over on the table.

“None of my friends from back home contacted me once after I moved. My family basically went radio silent, and I knew they would do that. Even if my assault charge was trumped up, that didn’t matter to a lot of people in our town, and I’d ruined our reputation. That means a lot to them. My probation being in Tokyo was a convenient excuse to get rid of me for a while so the rumors could calm down. Meeting Ryuji my first day, even without us accidentally running into Kamoshida’s palace, I think we still would have become friends. Shujin is the first place where I met people who I really felt any kinship for. And--” Akira stopped, looked at Maruki and flushed before breaking eye contact again, “Um… You were the first...person I ever felt this way about.”

Maruki worried his hands a little bit as Akira said, “You read me like a book during our first counseling session and it freaked me out a little bit, but I… It, uh, didn’t take long for me to...well, like you because of it. I’m really good at putting up faces people want to see, you know that, so the fact that it didn’t work with you… It was nice. Scary, but nice.”

Maruki’s gloved hand separated from his wringing and reached up to rub the back of his neck a moment as he looked away from Akira, “I...see.”

He looked at the counselor’s expression a moment and hummed, crossing his arms and squeezed his knee in between both of his own. Maruki started and looked at Akira and stuttered, “I--well.”

“Tell me.”

Maruki sighed, “You know what I’m going to say.”

Akira shook his head. After a moment he stood and leaned over Maruki as the other man leaned back a bit, anchoring himself up with one arm.

“You’re going to say that because of my inexperience, I shouldn’t sacrifice my future for the first person I fall for, especially you, aren’t you?”

Maruki exhaled through his nose and smiled a little helplessly at Akira, “You got me.”

Akira brought one knee up on to the table and put a hand on Maruki’s shoulder to steady himself, making the man soon to be underneath him scoot back a little bit and said, “Do I have to call you a hypocrite?”

He shook his head and scowled briefly, though not at Akira in particular. That probably stung. It should have.

Akira brought his other knee up and his other hand similarly before settling down firmly in Maruki’s lap. His new seat took a long breath in and let it out slowly in a laugh, his expression easing, “Are you trying to seduce me into agreeing with you?”

Akira cocked his head to the side as he looked at him, “Is it working?”

At least that earned him another laugh, a touch from Maruki’s hand against his back making him feel little flutters in his stomach. He straightened out his arms over Maruki’s shoulders playing with his fingers when his hands finally met.

“Maybe…”

Akira arches his back and lets his knees slide out over the laminated table top, grinding suddenly against Maruki’s lap. It backfires a little, the feeling along with the hand on his back immediately grabbing his hip causing him to shiver.

“That--ah that wasn’t an invitation,” Maruki clarified and Akira rolled one of his shoulders to help further overcome the shiver that danced through him.

When he seemed sure that Akira wouldn’t try that again, Maruki let go of his hip. In turn, Akira settled back down, more on his thighs than directly on his lap, making it both slightly more comfortable and easier to see each other. The two sat in silence for a bit, Maruki looking into the middle distance as he thought, and Akira watching his expression change as he did.

Then, Maruki reached up to Akira’s arm and patted it at his elbow. “Where’s that glove?”

Retracting his arms, Akira opens his hands, the wadded up glove still in his right hand. Maruki retrieved it and worked to get it right side out.

“...so?” Akira asked, hopeful.

Maruki started working the glove back over his hand, “I still don’t think what you’re doing is the best for you, but your decision now isn’t necessarily going to be permanent for the rest of your life.”

Akira stiffened a little bit, his heart picking up speed.

He finished fixing his glove back on his hand and put both of his hands on the tops of Akira’s thighs. “But please understand, I don’t want to make you work for what I’m doing. I wanted to create this world for you to live in so you don’t _need_ to ever wear a mask again. I’m not going to give you another one for my benefit. I want you to be able to be authentic in your life from now on.” Maruki slid his hands up his legs a bit, “And I recognize that if I did to your cognition what I had intended to do if you hadn’t cooperated...would be directly opposed to what I wished most for you. So…” He sighed, glancing down a moment before looking at Akira again, “You...want to be with me?”

Somehow the mention of a narrowly avoided dark turn of events didn't hamper Akira's good mood as he nodded enthusiastically, reaching to touch his face, but Maruki caught his hand. “Then I need you to do something for me.”

He stopped and waited for Maruki to extrapolate.

“Go and finish high school with your friends. Graduate. I won’t get rid of your memories of everything that’s happened, if that’s what you want, and I won’t disappear. Once you’re an adult--” Akira gave him a withering look but Maruki held fast, “--then I won’t have any obligations in regards to your well being. I don’t care if you think it’s just a year, please.”

Despite sighing and his posture sagging a little bit, Akira didn’t retort or argue. Maruki fixed his gaze on him to make sure he was going to continue to listen and do so, “Everyone will remember me as the Shujin counselor, but you will be the only one that remembers everything else during January. And...well,” 

He let go of Akira’s hand and reached to run his fingers through his hair. Akira blinked and let his eyes close, leaning into the touch. He smiled at him, “Are you sure about this?”

He received a nod in answer, gray eyes opening again to look over at him, his hand that was blocked previously reaching to touch his cheek. Maruki took a breath and sighed, “Alright.”

Akira wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted when they first started this conversation, the only thing he knew was that he didn’t want Maruki out of his life, despite everything that had happened. Maybe even _because_ of everything that had happened, with his palace, for the last month, he couldn’t stand the idea of Maruki being gone. Even if he erased their memories so they could live in blissful ignorance, he was sure there would be a gaping hole, no matter how hard it would be for him to notice, in his heart, he knew that he would know it was there. And the risk of being ignorant for however long and his memories possibly coming back...that was a pain he didn’t want to experience. Considering how everyone in the Phantom Thieves was able to remember on their own, he couldn’t believe that it was going to be foolproof, but with him playing along with Maruki’s plans...hopefully they’d be able to live on without the disruptions this time, with their families, with the people that make them happy.

“I’ll hear from you soon?” Akira asked as Maruki let his hair alone.

“You will,” Maruki promised, pressing his fingers against the back of Akira’s neck to urge him to lean forward.

Akira smiled and leaned forward, kissing him sweetly.

\---

The attic was still cold when he woke up.

Akira took a breath and groaned shortly, rolling over and closing his eyes again until the dream registered and his eyes shot open again. He sat up suddenly and grabbed his phone to check the date.

February 3rd.

He could still remember everything, Maruki, his palace…

He held his breath, tense. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t trust Maruki, but, well…

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Akira turned towards the voice to see a sleeping boy his age roll over on the futon against the wall adjacent to his. He rolled over and rubbed at his eyes, his black hair going all over before he blinked his bright blue eyes at him.

Morgana’s human body…

Akira released the breath he had been holding, “Sorry, just...had an intense dream, that’s all.”

“Mmm...nightmare?”

“Not...really,” Akira said and Morgana pursed his lips.

“Man, I don’t need to know about those kinds of dreams.”

Akira laughed, probably longer than he should have at his reaction, before laying back down, the tension he’d been holding all month finally eeking out of him.

For the first time in what felt like a very long time, he felt comfortable knowing what would happen tomorrow.


End file.
